What a Snail Thinks About
by cilepe
Summary: "I have no doubts about Yao Meng and Zhao Han or you as parents, but when I try to analyze myself in the same way, I'm not confident at all." Oneshot for When A Snail Falls In Love.


"What is serious snail thinking about?" Ji Bai asked, taking a seat next to his wife.

Xu Xu smiled a little. "Yao Meng and Zhao Han." She aimlessly twirled a photo in her hand. It was a copy of Yao Meng's latest sonogram that the couple had delivered earlier. "And you."

Ji Bai quirked his mouth upward in amusement. "What do I have to do with _that_?"

Xu Xu pursed her lips at him, though she truly didn't mind his teasing. "Yao Meng will be a strict parent while Zhao Han will melt at a single pleading look and Uncle Zhao will sneak the child sweets and toys whenever either of them isn't looking. Their child will be open and kind and adored by everyone."

"I still don't see how I fit in."

She paused, gathering her thoughts rather than her courage. Yao Meng and Zhao Han's child was a reality; her thoughts regarding her husband were as yet abstract. "You would be an excellent father."

Ji Bai raised his eyebrows but kept silent.

Xu Xu continued. "You are a good teacher, warm and affectionate when appropriate, stern when necessary. The only drawback I can find is that you're a police officer whose life is often in danger." She sighed lightly. "I have no doubts about Yao Meng and Zhao Han or you as parents but when I try to analyze myself in the same way, I'm not confident at all."

Ji Bai pulled Xu Xu close into his side, letting her head rest on his shoulder. It was rare to see her doubt herself. "I trust you," he murmured. "You could read all the books and analyze all the data in the world, but when it comes to children, there is no choice but to learn as you go. It can be messy and unpredictable and terrifying at times."

"Even so, it's beautiful," Xu Xu added.

Ji Bai nodded as he gently stroked her hair. This wasn't something they'd talked about before. They'd teased Zhao Han and Yao Meng, certainly, and offered their support for anything their friends might need, but the idea of their own children had never come up.

"If you're thinking this might be a roundabout way of telling you I'm pregnant, it isn't," Xu Xu stated a moment later. "I don't think I would be so indirect."

Ji Bai grinned. "No, my serious snail is always very straightforward."

She turned and looked up at him. "Do you want children?"

"To be honest, I'm not entirely confident either. Our jobs are dangerous and demand a great deal of time and energy. It would be difficult if one of us didn't choose to stay home. In spite of that, I do. I would love an even tinier robot monster running around."

They both fell silent. Ji Bai didn't return the question. He knew Xu Xu would consider what he'd said and they would discuss it again when she was ready.

It was early and Ji Bai was cold. Xu Xu's side of the bed was empty. He hadn't heard a phone buzzing to alert them of a case, so he reached over to the bedside lamp. In its soft glow, he could see that her yellow running jacket was missing.

Ji Bai rolled out of bed, pulled on some sweats, and headed to the kitchen.

When Xu Xu returned, a bottle of water was waiting on the counter. She gulped half of it down as she climbed the stairs that led to the roof of their building. Ji Bai was sitting on the bench, sipping coffee, gazing at the horizon. Xu Xu settled next to him, reaching for the coffee he'd prepared for her, and together they watched the sunrise.

"Okay," Xu Xu said softly once both their cups were empty. "Not immediately. There are things we need to do first. But I want us to have a child, too. You must promise me something, though."

Ji Bai's eyebrows rose, inviting her to go on.

"If I'm gone, you have to let yourself be human, not only a police officer."

Ji Bai nodded slowly. "You will always be the only person with the right to light my cigarettes."

A year later, Ji Bai and Xu Xu welcomed their daughter into the world. They named her 火焰  
(Huǒyàn) – Flame.


End file.
